


Coiled Around My Heart

by sitabethel



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, Plot? What Plot?, Thiefshipping, who needs plot when you have thieves going on lantern festival dates, zorckura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 03:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitabethel/pseuds/sitabethel
Summary: Bakura returns from the Shadow Realm changed...





	Coiled Around My Heart

The lights flickered and Malik dug his nails into the violet throw cushion in his lap. The rain crashing against the window sounded like a roar. Thunder shook the glass in it’s frame. Lightning and thunder didn’t frighten Malik, but if the lights went out…

Candles crowded the coffee table and shelves around him- just in case. Every light in the apartment glowed, the brightest bulbs Malik could buy. Not only the ceiling fixtures and the side lighting, but lamps in every corner. Malik’s linen closet was a hoard of towels and spare light bulbs. 

An overhead light and a few lamps were usually enough, but somehow knowing that the lights could go off at anytime made Malik panic. He sat on the couch, death grip on the pillow, and stared at the white glare of light bulbs as if he could _will them_ to stay lit in the same way he used to will the Ghouls to do his bidding. 

Another flicker, Malik’s fingers tensed. His jaw tightened and he ground his teeth. He didn’t hear the knock on the door, hyperfocused on the light. He didn’t hear it the second time, either. It wasn’t until the third time, when the pounding grew wild and insistent, that Malik’s brain drifted to the sound. He growled, eyes narrowing in irritation, but he discarded the cushion to the side and marched towards the door. 

“Rishid, I’m fine. You don’t have to babysit me!” Malik snapped as soon as he threw open the door, sure that it was his brother checking up on him. 

And it was _because_ Malik _wanted_ to hide against his brother’s chest and scream in terror that he yelled. He _wanted_ the comfort and protection, but didn’t want to _admit it_. He didn’t want to be weak, afraid, broken… still broken. All those years out of the tomb, Pharaoh moved on to Aaru, and Malik was still a fragile, barely surviving thing inside. 

It wasn’t Rishid. 

It was a dark, rain-drenched coat and dripping white hair.

“R-Ryou?” Malik stammered the name, assuming that it _had_ to be Ryou. (It had to be). 

“Hmph.” The creature in Malik’s apartment hallway peeked up enough for a flash of garnet colored eyes. “Not exactly.”

“B...Bakura?”

“In the flesh.” Bakura winked. “Not even renting this time. This body’s a permanent residence.”

“Hell no.” Malik thought about slamming the door in Bakura’s face, but the lights flickered again as another peal of thunder shook the walls. Malik held his breath, suppressing the instinct to flinch at the flickering lights. He glanced at Bakura, dripping water. “Fuck. I guess you can come in.”

“Too kind,” Bakura purred, sashaying into Malik’s apartment. 

“I can take your coat.”

“No.”

“Bakura, you’re dripping.”

“Give me a towel.”

“You should still-”

“No.”

Something about Bakura’s tone made Malik pause. It wasn’t fear… but it sounded desperate somehow nonetheless.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“You used to talk more.” Malik wandered off, grabbing three huge towels. He passed two to Bakura for his jacket, and used the third to reach up for Bakura’s hair.

“What are you doing?” Bakura stepped back, his face twisted in a scowl. 

“Helping dry your hair.”

“When have you ever been the type to help anyone but yourself?”

“You’re dripping on my rug, Bakura. It’s expensive.”

“I’ll do it myself.” With a grunt, Bakura dropped one of the towels to the floor and stepped on it to keep the rainwater from soaking into the rug below. He used the second towel to dry the throat-to-floor trench coat surrounding his body. 

“Well, the obvious question is how are you back? And in your own body no less.” 

“It’s complicated.” Bakura frowned at the towel in his hands. “I tricked Zorc and escaped… we’re not going to talk about it.”

“We’re not?” Malik smirked. 

“We’re not.” He passed his wet towel to Malik and stole the dry one, working on his hair. “What about you? How’s life?” 

“Boring, honestly. Not bad, necessarily, but there’s so many hours in a day, and filling them all without a grand scheme of godhood and vengeance is just so… tedious.” 

“Hmmm.” Bakura combed his hair with his fingers. It finally spiked up to its proper shape. 

“You sound thoughtful.” Malik studied Bakura. “Hey, are you okay? You’re swaying a little.”

“Fine.” Bakura stepped back. “Don’t touch me.”

“You _seriously_ don’t look good, Bakura.” 

“Fine.” He growled. 

He clearly wasn’t fine. His face was rosy with fever stains, and he _wasn’t_ talking as much as Bakura should be. He was as argumentative as ever, but less articulate all the same. Bakura reached out, hand clutching the arm of the sofa, body bent over like a willow in a storm- a storm like the one outside. 

“Do you want a drink? Or a sandwich?”

Or a hospital, because that’s what it looked like Bakura needed, but Malik knew he wouldn’t agree to that, so he thought that at least a glass of water…

“No. I… even if it was only for a few minutes I needed somewhere…” Bakura frowned, his eyebrows furrowed. He looked like the words hurt his throat. “Safe.”

Bakura collapsed. 

“Hey!” Malik dropped to his knees, tapping Bakura’s cheek to try and wake him. His face was hot; he did have a fever. “Bakura? Wake up.” 

Malik shook his shoulders and tapped his face again, but Bakura was out. With a sigh, Malik grabbed the lapel of Bakura’s trench coat and pulled it away. If Bakura did have a fever, he didn't need to be wrapped up in a leather trench coat. 

The coat fell from Malik’s grip. His eyes shot wide open and his jaw dropped. 

“What in the name of Ra?” 

He said complicated. He was understating.

Malik reached out, gliding his hand along the smooth, black tail curling around Bakura’s body. The light flashed in tiny crescents along each scale. It was beautiful, mesmerizing. Malik flushed. He’d been so distracted by the tail that he didn’t realize Bakura had _only_ the coat on his body. His thighs were dark and his shins glistened with the same glossy scales as the tail, but the skin in the middle of his leg, around the knees, were milk white. Malik had thought Bakura wore gloves with the jacket, but he was wrong. Bakura’s arms from elbow to fingers were black scales and talons tipped each finger. 

Spines rose from Bakura’s back along his spinal column. Malik poked the tip of one, jerking his finger back. A single red bead of blood burgeoned on the tip. Malik stuffed his finger into his mouth and sucked away the blood. Checking his finger again and deciding it was fine, Malik rolled Bakura from his side onto his back and gasped again. His chest was more human than not, but black streaked along his skin like dark branched lightning, and in the center the black formed the shape of the Ring, like an after burn image. 

“What the hell did you do?” Malik whispered. 

Of course Bakura didn’t answer, couldn’t. His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. His face wrinkled in pain. Malik combed the loose strands away from Bakura’s face, morbidly curious, awestruck, and strangely enticed by the sight of Bakura’s form. 

“What did you do?” Malik repeated to himself. 

He stood and bent down, scooped Bakura into his arms so that Bakura’s front was against Malik’s chest- instead of his spiny back poking Malik’s arms- and then Malik carried him to the bedroom. Malik lay Bakura down, slipping the blanket over Bakura’s body and sat down on the bed beside him. 

“You’re such a mess.” Malik watched Bakura another moment. 

Outside the storm raged on, but Malik’s panic about the lights was muted by this new mystery. Here lay Bakura in his bed, passed out and looking more dragon than human. Malik supposed it was Zorc’s influence that caused the physical change, but Bakura wore it better than the demon. Malik had only seen pictures, sketches from Bakura’s RPG that the others had shown him when he moved to Domino the year before. He remembered the dragon appendage that everyone had made fun of. Curiosity burned through Malik’s thoughts. He even reached out and grabbed the blanket- he hadn't thought to look at Bakura’s crotch as he carried him, obviously, but now he was tempted to see.

Malik bit his lower lip, itching to pull the blanket back down, but he released the comforter and put his hand in his lap instead. The lights flickered again and Malik’s face shot up. The terror creeping back into his every nerve. Malik scooted closer to Bakura, pulling his knees into his chest and leaning against the headboard of the bed. 

***

Bakura clutched the blanket to his body when he came to. He jerked to a sitting position, searching his surroundings. He was in a bedroom. Malik curled on his side beside Bakura, asleep. Bakura peeked beneath the covers. His coat was gone. 

“How are you feeling?” Malik asked, his voice groggy and sleep-thickened. 

“Where’s my coat?”

“On the floor. You had a fever.” Malik sat up, yawning. He reached out and touched Bakura’s face. 

“Stop.” Bakura pushed Malik’s hand away.

“You still have a fever. I’ll go get some aspirin.” Malik slipped out of bed and vanished, returning with a glass of water and two pills. 

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Bakura asked. 

Malik glanced at his bedroom clock. “It’s three in the morning, and I’m sort of used to your shit.” 

“There wasn’t enough of me left…” Bakura looked down at his hands. “I preserved most of my ba, but my body was gone, my ib, my ka, I couldn't be an ankh. Zorc-” Bakura clenched his hand into fists, clenching his teeth. “Played me. I remember now. In Egypt he discarded me the moment it was convenient, used Aknadin as his Shadow Priest instead, _used the spirits of my family_ … they moved on, three thousand years ago, after Atem sealed everything away, but I was in the Ring. I didn’t know. I thought I had to go on, get vengeance, I had to fight, I had to-” Bakura growled. “And for what? To end up in the Shadow Realm as half a spirit?” 

“How’d you escape?” Malik handed Bakura the aspirin and water. 

Bakura swallowed, gulping the water down all at once. He exhaled, set the glass down on the night stand, and looked back at Malik. 

“Zorc had been siphoning energy from me, for the last three thousand years. I learned how to manipulate that exchange and stole that energy back and used it to escape and create another body.” Bakura threw the blanket off and displayed the mix of white skin and black scales. “Didn’t exactly work according to plan. I escaped, but I ended up like this.” 

“It’s not so bad,” Malik said.

“Are you fucking kidding? I look like a rejected character concept for a Duel Monster card.” 

“You look like a dragon-human chimera. It’s kind of neat.” 

“Great. I can paint my scales white and put in blue contacts and get a job as Kaiba’s concubine.” 

Malik laughed, and his laughter coaxed a small grin from Bakura. Malik shrugged once his laughter settled. 

“Listen, you’re sick, you’re obviously not fit for society- not to mention the way you look- it’s pouring outside. Why don’t you crash here for a bit?” 

“What are you expecting to get out of this?” Bakura wrinkled his brow. 

“Bakura, if you don’t trust me, then why did you knock on my door?”

“I… didn’t know where else to go.” 

“Has that changed or did you get a second option while I was sleeping?”

“You asshole.” Bakura looked away. 

“How’d you know I was in Japan anyway?” Malik asked. 

“I didn’t. I didn’t know where I was going. I was… drawn? Instinct?” Bakura flushed, but Malik didn’t think it had to do with his fever. “I felt desperate for some sort of sanctuary and ended up here. I was expecting Ryou to open the door, honestly.” 

“Hmmm,” Malik hummed. “I told you I’ve been bored. This, at least, is not boring, so if you want to know what’s in it for me, I suppose the answer is a refreshing distraction. I gotta see how you fuck your life up _this_ time.”

“I can’t have a life, even if I wanted to try.” Bakura’s words were venom-bitter as he spoke. “Not in a body like this.”

Lightning struck outside, a great roaring explosive noise tore through the apartment as the lights went out. Malik gasped, unable to breathe in the dark, hyperventilating. The candles were all in the living room- why were the candles all in the living room? Malik should have planned better. 

“Hey. Hey.” Bakura grabbed Malik and pulled him to his chest. “The dark ain’t shit, okay? You escaped the tomb, I escaped the Shadows, we’re above this. Malik, breathe, godsdamn you.” 

“C-ca-” His best attempt to say candle. 

Malik scrabbled as close as he could, shameless in his want to be held in the dark. He glanced up and noticed that Bakura’s eyes glowed in the dark like hot coals. He reached up, brushing his fingers just below Bakura’s eyes and trying to breathe. At least it was something to focus on that wasn’t black. 

“Hold on.” Bakura slipped away as if he had no substance, a literal living shadow, and left the room. 

“Bakura, no!” Malik gripped the closest pillow instead, nails scraping against the satin covers. He whined and hiccupped half-breaths into the pillow case, utterly pathetic, utterly weak, and furious with himself. 

Then Bakura appeared with a candle in each hand. The play of light and shadows against Bakura’s hair and skin made him look grotesque, a monster in the darkness, but to Malik he was a guardian angel bringing light to him. Malik whimpered, reaching out for a candle, eyes gleaming lavender in the reflected light. 

Bakura passed on one of the candles and set the other next to Malik. He found himself stroking Malik’s hair, consumed by an odd instinct that he couldn't describe. Bakura swallowed, suppressing the urge to wrap his tail around Malik’s body and hold him again. 

“Thanks,” Malik whispered, his breathing finally controlled. 

“I know you hate the dark.”

“I’m pathetic.” Malik sneered at himself, setting the candle next to the other one in disgust. He curled in on himself, gripping his hair. “It’s just a storm. Why am I so pathetic?” 

Bakura scowled; he felt strange. He should have laughed at Malik, told him the dark was nothing, but seeing Malik shaking with internalized rage made his stomach feel heavy and acidic. He gave in to instinct, slipping his tail around Malik’s waist and coiling it around him. He pulled Malik in close, lowering Malik’s hands and running a talon across Malik’s cheek. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Malik growled. 

“I don’t know. You looked pissed.”

“I _am_ pissed. Only children are afraid of the dark. This is ridiculous. I’m 21! This shouldn’t still be bothering me.”

As if to further mock Malik, the lights flashed back on. Malik looked around, relief flooding his expression. He collapsed against Bakura’s chest then, trembling instead of shaking. 

“It will always bother you,” Bakura said, wrapping his arms around Malik as well as his tail. “Three thousand years, and there are things that still bother me.”

“It’s bullshit,” Malik spoke into Bakura’s chest. 

“Sure is.” Bakura chuckled. 

“Is it weird? That we’re hugging like this?” Malik asked. 

“Yeah,” Bakura said. It was. It was absurd, but Bakura didn’t want to let go. “You’re warm. The Shadow Realm was cold. And I’m kinda a lizard now; I’m not even sure if I’m cold or warm blooded.”

“You’re fever seems to have broken.” Malik pressed his hand against Bakura’s cheek again, but this time Bakura didn’t slap him away. 

Both at once they leaned in towards each other. Bakura felt his eyelids droop down and his lips part. His nerves thrummed with electricity as their mouths drew until just hovering.

But then they stopped. 

Bakura wasn’t sure why they stopped, nor was he sure why they’d drawn together in the first place. They sat there, in each other’s arms, lips a breath apart, blinking at each other in confusion. 

“You should probably get some rest. You’re sick,” Malik said. 

Bakura wanted to argue, but he did feel… off. Instead of arguing, he nodded, but realized that he didn’t want to let go. 

“I’m still cold,” Bakura said.

“Do you have chills?”

“Maybe.” Bakura shrugged. He really wasn’t sure _what_ was wrong with him, and he did feel a little shaky. 

“Here.” Malik leaned down on his side, still tangled up with Bakura. He wiggled a single arm loose in order to tuck the comforter around them, and then combed his fingers through the white ribbons of Bakura’s hair. “Better?” 

Bakura grunted and since Malik was touching his hair, he felt justified in running his claws through Malik’s hair. The tips of his claws lightly brushed against Malik’s scalp and Malik sighed in delight, shutting his eyes and leaning closer. The storm wore down to a soft patter on the windows. Something about the steady, reassuring noise mixed with the warmth of Malik’s body and the feeling of his fingers in Bakura’s hair made Bakura close his eyes and slip into a strong, dreamless sleep. 

***

Malik woke up to sunlight streaming through the window. The bedroom lights still glowed, but the candles had died out. Bakura still coiled around Malik. His arms, legs, tail, everything that could grip was wrapped firmly around Malik’s body. Malik’s entire body heated up. He was strangely _into it_ , being wrapped up like he was. 

“Bakura.” Malik shook Bakura’s shoulder. “Wake up.” 

Bakura groaned, wiggling against Malik but refusing to wake. Malik sucked in a sharp breath at Bakura’s squirming, it made Malik’s morning wood brush against the scales of Bakura’s thighs and the smooth, but slightly textured feel of it made Malik’s cock twitch in excitement. Malik could feel Bakura’s cock bumping against him as well and again had the urge to check out how it’d been changed, but they were pressed too tightly together to get a look at it. 

“Bakura.” It was more of a light moan than a word.

“Mmmm…” Bakura moaned as well, but didn’t move. 

Malik’s fingers dug into Bakura’s shoulders. The heat in his body was pooling in between his legs and Malik was consumed with the need to hike his hips. Even through his sweatpants, his cock pressed against Bakura’s side felt insanely good, better than any experience Malik had ever associated with _body sensation_ before. Malik bit the inside of his cheek, although his _body_ wanted to move, Malik’s brain was less sure. 

“Bakura, fucking wake up or I will _wake you up_.” Malik growled against his lips- but made sure they didn’t touch. 

“You make threats sound so erotic, what the fuck?” Bakura muttered, sucking in a long inhale and then blowing it out before blinking his eyes open. “I feel slow.”

“Are you still sick?” Malik touched Bakura’s forehead. “You’re fever is gone.” 

“I don’t know.” 

Bakura unwound his tail first, then his legs. Malik missed the pressure of Bakura’s embrace the moment it was gone. Bakura arched and stretched, curling his claws into fists, scales winking with flashes of light as the sun struck them. Malik couldn’t pull his eyes away. He was _really into_ the way Bakura looked. The glistening scales, the contrast of white and black, the interesting ways the black swirled along Bakura’s skin. It was appealing; Malik wanted to run his fingers along every design and-

“What about breakfast? Are you hungry?”

“Food?” Bakura sat up, blatant interest in his garnet eyes. 

“I’ll go make something.” Malik adjusted himself through his sweats before going to the kitchen and starting breakfast. He made fava beans with extra garlic and scallions and set two bowls down at the table with two cups of black coffee. 

Bakura slinked into the kitchen, sniffing the air. He had his coat back on, and it seemed like a shame for him to hide behind black leather when he was covered in black scales. 

“I don’t have any meat, so don’t ask.”

“Pffff, I figured. At least the garlic smells good,” Bakura said, licking his lips. 

Malik stopped mid-stride, tilting his head to the side. “Do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Stick out your tongue.” 

In typical Bakura maturity, he stuck his tongue out at Malik and wiggled it, but the tongue that slipped out of Bakura’s mouth was long and serpentine like the rest of him. 

“Huh. That’s interesting.” His tone was casual, but his imagination was going wild. 

Malik sat down, hiding his persistent erection, and stared at his breakfast, but he didn’t really want to eat. He was too busy daydreaming about what Bakura’s tongue would look like flicking against Malik’s cockhead. He shuddered, holding his breath and wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. He never really felt a strong attraction to anyone before, so he didn’t know what to do with his thoughts. Especially because it was the distinctly _not human_ element that appealed to Malik. Then again, that had always been one of the appeals of Bakura. Even in Ryou’s body, the Spirit of the Ring carried an inhuman air that always made Malik feel at ease when they spoke. Perhaps because of Malik’s inhuman dark half inside him, Malik knew that he never had to “play human” or “play nice” around Bakura. If he made a sinister joke, expressed a violent thought, Bakura wouldn’t judge him. In fact, he was more likely to snicker, elaborate, and try to outdo Malik’s violence. 

“Is there more?” Bakura had finished his bowl before Malik finished his fourth bite. Malik gestured behind him towards the stove and Bakura discarded his spoon in favor of the ladle, eating right out of the pot.

“Bakura, really?”

“Hungry.” Bakura scooped more fava beans into his mouth. 

“I guess I could make…” Malik thought about what else was in his pantry. “On second thought, I’ll probably just go to the store.”

He finished his food and coffee, fished out some kefir in the fridge for Bakura to drink, and went to take a shower. Steam filled the room. Malik stepped beneath the jet and sighed as the scalding water splashed across his dark skin. Malik leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the heat. The thought of Bakura’s tongue and tail flashed in Malik’s mind and he squirmed a little, feeling tight and hot inside. He toyed with his shaft, running his fingers up and down his length. Biting his lower lip, Malik decided to go ahead and pleasure himself. He hoped that if he just got the tension out of his system, it’d be over and he wouldn’t react so strongly to the sight of Bakura.

He told himself it was coincidence as he wrapped his fingers around his girth and started to stroke. All the adrenaline from the storm, and then Bakura showed up out of the abyss itself, and they ended bundled up together for no real reason, of course Malik’s body was reacting. Touch was a luxury that he sometimes, but not often, permitted himself to have. A stifled puff of air escaped Malik’s mouth as his hand sped up. He flesh was hot and thick in his hand. Malik used the tip of his thumb to tease his cockhead as he stroked. Jolts of pleasure stabbed through him. His balls tightened and he used his free hand to roll them in his palm. 

“Bakura,” Malik mouthed silently, blushing as soon as his mouth made the shape of Bakura’s name. It hadn’t been intentional, and he probably shouldn’t be invoking a dark spirit reincarnated as a semi-demon while he jerked off in the shower. If anything, it’d make Bakura appear somehow, and knowing Bakura, he’d grin and step right into the shower cubicle. 

Malik’s hand rushed faster, jerking up and down as quickly as he could move his arm. The thought of Bakura standing in front of him and watching was too scorching to deny. Malik imagine garnet eyes locked on Malik’s body, and obsidian claws teasing down Malik’s chest as Bakura’s tail slid up Malik’s copper thigh. 

“ _Oh gods, oh gods-_ ” Malik slammed his eyes shut, mouth in an O and body bent forward as his cock pumped and he came with a strong, violent shudder. 

He panted with his mouth wide open, feeling loud although his breath hardly made a sound. His heartbeat sounded loud, loud enough for Bakura to hear from the kitchen. Malik’s face burned as his breathing steadied. It was very clear that he wanted…

Wanted what? Bakura? A tail? Any lover with a tail? To jerk off while thinking about guys with tails? Or just Bakura with a tail. 

Malik tried to imagine other people he knew as half demons and wrinkled his face. He grabbed his shampoo and scrubbed his hair and then soaked it in conditioner while he washed his body. Less than ten minutes later Malik was drying off with a towel and using a blow dryer against his hair. He’d brought clothes into the bathroom with him, red cargo pants and a white, sleeveless hoodie. He covered himself in gold and darkened his eyes with kohl and dabbed cologne onto his pulse points. When he felt ready for the public, Malik stepped out of the bathroom. It wasn’t until then that he realized he slummed around the entire night with Bakura in nothing but sweats and a tank top. It was truly odd, how comfortable he felt around Bakura when all their interactions could fit within the space of a week. 

“You smell good.” Bakura said the moment Malik appeared in the living room. 

“It’s cardamom, cinnamon, and blue lotus flower.” Malik answered. 

“Oh,” Bakura said. 

“Should you be in that heavy coat?” Malik asked. “It’s not cold enough inside for it.”

“It’s the only thing I managed to steal before arriving here.” 

“Huh, that’s a good point. What are you going to do about clothing? I don’t see that tail getting into a pair of pants.” 

“If I had some linen I could make a shenti.” Bakura shrugged. 

“Okay, I’ll get you some.” Malik grabbed his motorcycle keys and bike jacket before leaving the apartment. 

“Get red!” Bakura called after him. 

“Freeloaders don’t get to choose!” Malik teased before slamming the door. 

***

Bakura looked around Malik’s apartment, drank water, took his own shower, but even after all that, Malik hadn’t returned. He still felt dizzy, so in the end Bakura curled up under Malik’s comforter. It wasn’t nearly as pleasant without Malik to use as a body pillow, but Bakura was too exhausted to resist crashing back into sleep. It wasn’t until a rich, irresistible smell reached him that Bakura woke up. Ravenous, he untangled himself from the covers and searched out the aroma. 

He found Malik in the kitchen cooking steak. Bakura wiped his mouth, staring. Malik also looked good in red, and the white top brought out the caramel tone of Malik’s skin. A uncontrollable _need_ to taste that skin overcame Bakura, but instead he focused on the steak. 

“You’re awake. How do you feel?” Malik asked.

“I don’t know,” Bakura answered. He felt strange, that was as specific as he could get. 

He felt ravenous for everything life had to offer. He wanted Malik’s throat against his lips, and the he wanted to devour the steak in three bites, and he wanted to suck in deep breaths and laugh up to the moon until he was delirious. He wanted to remember what rain felt like against his face, and what river silt felt like beneath his feet. He wanted to remember the way a breeze tickled the sweat from his skin as it blew his hair around his face. It’d been so long since Bakura had been alive and fully connected to his own nerve endings that he was greedy for everything and all at once.

But first the steak. Malik put it on a plate. He had two bowls of salad already on the table and Bakura ate both the meat and the vegetables without a moment’s hesitation. 

“You look like a lizard when you eat.” Malik laughed.

“Fuck you.” 

“What a scathing response.” Marik smirked. 

“I can never tell if I want to strangle you or-”

“Or what?” Malik laughed when Bakura paused.

“Simply punch you.” 

“Don’t think that because you’re in that body I couldn’t conquer your ass in a fight.”

“Conquer my ass, you say? Well then, I might not be struggling as hard as I should in _that_ scenario.” 

“Ha! Do you fantasize about being dominated by me, Bakura?” Malik gave him a sultry look.

Bakura’s cheeks bloomed like pink roses. He shoved a huge bite of steak into his mouth.

“That’s a lot of meat you’re swallowing there.” Malik smirked. 

Bakura’s heart raced. Malik was gorgeous, and that was nice. Malik was shrewd, and brilliant, and merciless, which were also very nice qualities, but now Malik was also playing with words and something about _that_ made Bakura’s stomach twist in excitement. 

“I assure you, I can cram more meat than this into my mouth and suck down some whipped cream for dessert.” 

“That’s not even subtle.” Malik snorted, and although his complexion hid it well, Bakura could tell he was blushing. 

_And Malik smelled good._ So good. So, so, so damn good, it was pissing Bakura off. Not just the cologne, Bakura could smell Malik’s shampoo, and the soap, and his skin, and something indescribable that made Bakura want to shove Malik against the wall. 

“Why should I be subtle?” Bakura asked, licking rare steak juice from his lips. 

“Well, no need to ask if you’re feeling better. I can tell that you are.”

Bakura thought about it. He was. The sleep and food had replenished his weakened ba and he felt better than he had since he lived in Egypt. Bakura shoved the last bite of steak into his mouth, sucking his fingers clean afterward and then licking the plate. He wanted every last drop of flavor. Malik made a repressed humming sound and Bakura flicked his gaze upward, noticing the distracted way Malik watched as Bakura’s slender tongue glided along the plate. Instead of apologizing, or sitting back up, Bakura made a show of mopping up the last drops of juice with his tongue, eyes locked on Malik the entire time. Finished, he licked his lips and wiped his chin. 

“So? Want to play a game?” 

“Sure.” Malik grinned. 

Before they started, Malik handed Bakura various lengths of cloth. Red, cream, black, a cherry blossom print that Bakura sneered at, but then decided he liked after staring at it for a moment. Bakura took them to Malik’s bedroom and pulled the red material out of the pile. He wrapped it around his waist as he always had in Egypt, but his tail got in the way, so he had to rethink how to do it. In the end Bakura walked back into the living room wearing a suitable shenti around his waist.

“This was always better than pants anyways,” Bakura said. 

“It… looks good on you,” Malik muttered.

Bakura laughed, hiking up the bottom to show off a scaled, black thigh. Malik rolled his eyes and led them to a spot on the living room floor where he’d set out all of his extra cards. Malik’s cell rang as Bakura searched through Malik’s cards to make himself a deck. Bakura wasn’t sure which sibling it was, but knew it was one of the two by the way Malik underplayed the storm and its effect on him. 

The memory of Malik’s face in candlelight permeated Bakura’s thoughts. His tail flicked as he remembered how Malik felt in his arms and coiled up in his tail. A wicked smirk decorated Bakura’s face as he snuck his tail towards Malik’s bare feet. He tickled Malik’s heel and earned a slap to the tail for it as Malik insisted to the phone that he didn’t need a visit, that he was truly fine. Bakura tickled Malik a second time and the death stare Malik gave him set fire to Bakura’s loins. The intensity, the passion, the fury of Malik’s eyes melted the bones in Bakura’s body. 

“Okay, okay. I promise. I will. Yes, really. Okay. Goodbye.” Malik hung up the phone with an aggravated sigh and then glared at Bakura. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Entertaining myself.” Bakrua shuffled his cards.

“Well next time go fuck yourself. The last thing I want is for Ishizu to find out you’re here- especially looking like _that_.” 

“Your house your rules.” Bakura shot at Malik with his finger. “Next time you’re on the phone, I will grab my cock and fuck myself right in front of you.”

Malik’s mouth dropped. Bakura waited for the witty come back… and waited… he realized Malik was staring at him. 

“What?” Bakura asked as a shiver ran up his spine.

“Nothing. Hurry up and flip a coin so we can play.” 

“Yeah, let me just reach into the pocket I don’t have and get the coin I don’t have and-”

“Alright, alright.” Malik searched his own pockets until he pulled out a 100 yen coin from his pants. They called it, Bakura won and placed a card face down before ending his turn. 

Over an hour later, Bakura drew his last card and growled at it. 

“I win,” Malik sang in a pleased tone.

“Only because I ran out of cards. That’s hardly a real loss.” 

“Technicality is the refuge of the defeated Bakura.” 

“Bite me.” 

Malik launched forward, pressing Bakura into the carpet. His thighs straddled over Bakura’s stomach, Malik pinned both of Bakura’s wrists up over his head and leaned down. 

“Where?” 

“Q-quit fooling around.” Bakura laughed in a strained voice. 

“Did you just stutter?” Malik grinned. 

“Don’t exaggerate.” 

“Your tail is flicking. Is that a happy reflex or are you simply…” Malik winked. “Overstimulated?” 

“It means I’m ready for another Duel.”

“Does it? Then get your cards.” Malik slipped back to his own area, gathering his card and shuffling them. 

Bakura went first, but the game didn’t last long, Malik won a mere twenty minutes later. It wasn’t until the third game that Bakura finally beat Malik. 

“In your face, Ishtar.”

“Yes. You won. I’ve been put in my place for sure- although in a best two out of three scenario-” Malik gave Bakura a look of scathing, mock surprise. “It looks like I still won.” 

“Fine. Guess it’s back to the Shadow Realm for me.” Bakura sighed, pushing up to his feet and pretending to walk away.

“You get back here!” Malik grabbed his wrist and pulled him down again. 

He’d caught Bakura off-balance- despite the tail and former Thief King status. Bakura tumbled on top of Malik, crash landing on Malik’s chest. The both started laughing, looking at each other as they lay stacked. 

“I never gave you permission to leave.” Malik laced his fingers with Bakura’s. 

“Good to see that your king-complex is alive and well despite your alleged redemption.” Bakura wrinkled his nose in a grin. His tail full on wagged now that he wasn’t laying on it. 

“Oh yeah, I guess grabbing people’s bodies for my will and pleasure is looked down upon by the good guys, isn’t it?” 

“Luckily for you…” Bakura lowered down so their lips hovered over each other. “I was never one of the good guys.” 

“Do it,” Malik whispered after they lay frozen for over a minute without touching their lips together. 

“Why me? You do it,” Bakura grumbled. “You pulled me down.” 

“Yeah, I set up the game board, so you should make the first move.”

“I won the last game of Duel Monsters, so you should go first.”

“I won the most games so I should get to choose who initiates.” 

“But I... dammit.” Bakura grit his teeth together. 

“Looks like I won this argument as well.” 

“Maybe not, let’s see if this shuts you up.” Bakura, at last, bridged the space between their lips.

Malik tilted his head up to give Bakura a better angle. Their first pass was simple- a mere press of lips- but after the initial shock of it wore off, Bakura opened his mouth a little wider so he could drag his bottom lip against Malik’s. He pinched Malik’s top lip between his own, tugging a little as he pulled away. Bakura sank down again, and when he felt the tip of Malik’s tongue explore the perimeter of his lips, Bakura reached out and glided his own inside Malik’s mouth.

The volume of Malik’s moan shocked Bakura. He pulled away, searching Malik’s face to judge the meaning of the noise. Malik’s eyes were shinny as stainless steel, his lips dark from friction, his cheeks healthy and bright if not noticeably red. He pulled his hands out of Bakura’s grasp and threaded them through Bakura’s hair in order to pull them back together. Their tongues met again. Malik tasted sweet against Bakura’s snake-like tongue. By the time they pulled away again, both panted as they watched the other one. Malik moved to sit, and Bakura backed away until they knelt in front of each other. 

“Um, well that was-” Malik stared at the television hanging from the wall. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.” Bakura shrugged. 

“I’ll make popcorn.” Malik stood up and went to the kitchen. 

Bakura curled at one end of the couch, hugging one of the over-sized, plum colored throw pillows. The smell of buttered popcorn drifted into the living room and Malik returned with a huge bowl’s worth. He sat at a deliberate distance from Bakura, setting the bowl between them, and turned on the television. Bakura didn’t see a reason to move, the pillow was comfortable in his arms, so he used his tail to snatch a piece of popcorn from the bowl and pop it into his mouth. He didn’t think much of it; it felt natural to do. It wasn’t until he was licking the salt from his tail that he noticed Malik staring at him with dilated eyes. Bakura looked at him for a moment. 

“Rude?”

“Sorry.” Malik jerked his head back in the direction of the TV, assuming that Bakura’s word had been directed at the starring. 

“I meant, is it rude to use my tail?” Bakura grinned, understanding finally dawning on him. 

“Rude or not, would it stop you?” 

“No,” Bakura purred. 

“Then it doesn’t really matter, does it?” 

“Guess not,” Bakura said with his perky ‘Ryou Voice.’ 

“Don’t you give me that tone.” Malik snorted at him. 

Bakura ignored Marik, using his hand now to grab a fistfull of popcorn, but making a show of how his tongue flicked at each piece. Tail free, he wrapped it around Malik’s shoulders like the parody of a bad romcom. 

“What are you doing?” Malik tensed a little when he felt Bakura’s tail slither against his skin. 

“Well where else should I put it?”

“How about up your own ass?”

“Should I try it? I might like it.” Bakura raised an eyebrow. 

“Pfffft, you would.” Malik snorted, still staring oh-so-carefully at the television. 

“You’re warm,” Bakura said. 

“So what?” 

“I’m cold.”

“And the sky is blue, what’s your point?” Malik risked a glance at Bakura. 

He lidded his eyes, leaning forward. He had a plan. “Can I sit closer?” 

“Ever the parasite, aren’t you?” Malik narrowed his eyes. “Are you just going to curl in my lap and leech all the heat from me?”

“What’s the harm?” Bakura teased Malik’s shoulder with the tip of his tail. 

Malik shivered, eyes growing glassy at the continuous touch. “If it’ll make you shut up long enough for us to finish the movie, then do whatever you want.” 

Bakura slid right into Malik’s lap. He curled into a ball, rested his head on Malik’s chest, and kept his tail looped around Malik’s shoulders. Malik’s warmth soaked into Bakura’s skin, but the real reason he’d asked to spiral into Malik’s lap was simple: because he knew he could, and he was greedy to do it, so greedy. 

“Bakura, I said sit next to me, not on top of me. My arms are pinned down.” Malik adjusted his arms so that they were wrapped around Bakura instead of beneath him. 

“Seems like you’ve fixed the problem already.” Bakrua nuzzled a little closer and then returned his attention back to the television. 

“You look like a dragon, but you act like a cat.” 

Bakura meowed and Malik shook with laughter. Bakura’s tongue slipped out as his lips split apart in their own grin. Malik noticed, his laughter faded, and Bakura’s growing suspicions were all but confirmed- Malik was into the new look. Smug in the knowledge, Bakura relaxed in Malik’s hold and accidentally fell asleep before the film ended. 

***

Malik’s bladder woke him. He groaned, tried to sit, but realized Bakura was twisted around him. Malik stroked the blizzard of hair rushing down Bakura’s back. His touch wandered down to Bakura’s talons, admiring how they gleamed like obsidian. 

“Bakura.” Malik shook his shoulder. 

“Don’t wanna get up.” Bakura groaned and buried his face against Malik’s chest. 

“I have to pee. If we’re going to cuddle all night, let’s do it in bed.” 

“Fine,” Bakura growled and made gradual movements to un-cling himself from Malik’s body. 

He snuck into the bathroom before Malik had a chance and used the toilet first, grinning as he did it. Malik gave him a nonplussed look, but had no choice but to wait his turn. Malik was too tired to argue, and when they reached the bed he dropped his pants to the floor and slipped beneath the covers without worrying about pajamas. The second he settled, Bakura curled his arms and tail around Malik’s body. 

“Who would have guessed that you’d be more affectionate as a demon than while living in a piece of gold?” 

“I’m seducing you,” Bakura hummed against Malik’s throat. 

“I think seduction involves more fucking and less embracing.” 

“I enjoy a slow game.” Bakura looked up at Malik, his eyes glowing dark crimson. 

“Do you know your eyes glow?” 

“I guess? Zorc’s did, so I suppose that makes sense.” 

“From what I’ve heard from Yugi and the others, Zorc also had an appendage with a dragon’s head sticking out between his legs.” 

“Oh?” Bakura intoned the word as if he was bored. “Would that arouse you? If there was a living dragon between my legs?” 

“I’d laugh my ass off.” 

“Sorry to disappoint, but whatever fusion happened before I escaped didn’t include a huge dragon-headed cock. It’s a shame. I know.” 

“Then I suppose I have no interest in you.” Malik winked. 

“Really?” Bakura tasted the air with his tongue. “Should I go sleep on the couch?” 

“Nah.” Malik squeezed Bakura around his center. “I’m comfortable.” 

“You smell good.” Bakura sighed. 

A thrill shot through Malik’s body. He teased the soft, smooth skin on Bakura’s side and wished he could peek beneath the red shenti. He was curious. Who wouldn’t be? Bakura’s breathing slowed, his hands strayed down Malik’s back. Even with a shirt on, the touch felt stark and intimate. Malik sighed. 

“You said you wanted to feel safe?” 

“Hmmm?” Bakura made a groggy, sleeping sound. 

“Before you passed out. You said you wanted to be safe.” 

“I…” Bakura trembled. His talons sank into Malik’s shirt. 

“Bakura?” Malik lifted up enough to get a better look at him. “Hey, don’t worry. This is safe, right? That’s all I meant.” 

“I felt my ba dying.” Bakura spat out the words, bitter, hateful. “That fucking bastard was feeding off me until the very end. I _fought_. I fought him, but he wouldn’t stop drinking me like a milkshake through a straw- slowly. He was making it last as long as he could, some sick power trip for him, I suppose. I fucking hate that entitled bastard. I knew if I didn’t do something I was dead- the second death, the one that matters. So after I escaped…” Bakura shook his head back and forth, as if he didn’t want his own thoughts, but couldn’t shake them out of his head. “I wanted to be somewhere with light…” 

“I never turn them off.” Malik brushed his fingers against Bakura’s back spikes, careful not to prick himself again. 

“I thought you’d kick me out again, after you saw.” 

“You’re more human now than before.” Malik bumped their noses together. 

A smile broke through Bakura’s frown. “I don’t want this.”

“Want what?” Malik asked. 

“The cuddling.”

“Then let go of me, you fool.” Malik managed to keep his voice annoyed, but inside he felt like Bakura had taken a sledgehammer to his ribcage. 

“I can’t.” Bakura squeezed tighter. 

“But you just said-”

“I don’t _want it_ ,” Bakura hissed, “but I _need it_. Gods, I need it. I need it.” 

And in that moment the pain in Malik’s chest healed. It went beyond healing, something burgeoned and grew in his chest, like light. He realized that Bakura felt about affection the same way Malik felt about light. He’d gone far too long without it, and the thought of losing it terrified him, but he was bitter about how weak and pathetic that made him feel. Malik’s hands raced across Bakura’s body. He grabbed, and squeezed, and then smoothed his hands over the skin, over the scales, through Bakura’s hair, he left nothing above Bakura’s shenti untouched. 

Bakura cooed, breathing long, slow, and loud as Malik caressed him. Malik hooked his arms over Bakura’s, and whispered a harsh _yes_ of consent when Bakura’s tail coiled tighter around Malik’s waist. It felt like it coiled around his heart. Bakura whispered Malik’s name as he held Malik’s face. Malik whispered Bakura’s name back to him. They brushed their noses together. 

“I never thought I wanted something like this either,” Malik whispered against Bakura’s lips. “But if this is how it feels… guess I want it after all.” 

He brushed their lips together so subtly that he yearned for more before he even pulled away, but instead of giving into his selfish impulses, Malik pressed Bakura closer to his chest and combed his fingers through Bakura’s hair. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, and woke up in the morning in each other’s arms, gently rutting against each other as they woke. 

“You smell good,” Bakura whispered in lieu of good mornings. 

“You always say that.” Malik chuckled, cock stiffened as he nudged it teasingly against Bakura’s shenti. He was going to need another shower after this. 

“It’s something I couldn’t smell when I was fully human or in a human body.” Bakura chuckled. “Maybe it’s your Pharaoh-moans.” 

“I’m going to entomb you alive for that stupid pun.” 

“What? Did it make no scents?” 

“You truly are a monster, you know that?” 

“It’s really driving me crazy though, the scent. Makes me want to bury my face between your legs.” 

Bakura blushed at the bluntness of his own statement. Malik couldn’t help but smile. Bakura made lewd suggestions often enough. The last one must have been more honest a statement to pull that reaction from Bakura. Malik’s face was burning as well. He had half a mind to tug down his boxers and dare Bakura to follow through with the threat. 

“I need a shower. There’s bacon in the fridge if you want to cook it for your breakfast.” Malik scrambled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom with fresh clothes and a new towel. 

He stepped beneath the shower spray too soon in his eagerness, hissing at the chill of the water as it sucked gooseflesh from his skin. Malik’s cock throbbed, the perfect, searing contrast to the cold shower spray. Malik grabbed himself and stroked without fanfare, panting as soon as he started. He kept thinking about Bakura’s words. Bakura, crazed with Malik’s scent, wanting to bury his face between Malik’s legs. Malik imagined Bakura’s serpentine tongue swirled around his shaft. Gods yes. Malik imagined Bakura on his hands and knees, tail lifted up in the air and giving Malik access to whatever he wanted. Gods yes! Malik imagined Bakura screaming Malik’s name as he… as he… _gods yes_!

Malik dropped his ass down to the tiled floor, coming, and coming, and coming, and then struggling to catch his breath. The water was warm now. Steam surrounded him in the same close, moist way that he wanted Bakura’s mouth to surround his cock. Malik’s wet hair clung around his face, dripping water. Malik closed his eyes and tilted his head upward, catching the water into his mouth and trying to clear his over-excited imagination. 

Bakura knocked on the door.

“Damn, five more minutes, Bakura! I have to wash my hair!”

“Oi! Baldy’s here! I thought you’d want me to let him in!” 

“Shit,” Malik swore under his breath. “Okay! Five minutes!” Malik called. 

He rushed washing himself and drying his hair, and only did a passable job with his kohl before racing to the kitchen where he found Rishid and Bakura sitting at the table drinking coffee and playing Duel Monsters. Bakura had the trench coat on. That was something at least. He could explain Bakura’s presence before explaining the anatomy upgrade. 

“Good morning, Malik.” Rishid greeted him with a nod of his head. 

“Hey, Rishid.” Malik grabbed his own cup of coffee. He needed it already. 

“Are you well? The storm didn’t give you any trouble, did it?” 

“A little, but I managed.” The statement was true, so Malik didn’t feel the need to explain the part where he managed by clinging onto Bakura. 

“Okay, can we just acknowledge that I’m sitting right fucking here so I don’t have to feel like the elephant in the room?” Bakura growled under his breath, his fingers holding his cards with a death grip. 

“I see you found a roommate.” Rishid sipped on his coffee as if Bakura was some old friend from college instead of... well, Bakura. 

“Blown in by the storm,” Malik answered just as casually. 

“Bakura.” Rishid looked up above his cards. “If you promise not to drag Malik into any new crimes, I’ll enchant a pendant to make you look human.”

“Excuse me?” Bakura asked, a slight tick twitching below his eye. 

“Your hands and feet.”

Bakura pushed himself away from the table and stared at his own feet poking out from the trench coat and his hands holding the cards.

“Fuck.” 

Malik smacked his forehead. He wasn’t surprised that Rishid figured it out already, but he was annoyed that he hadn’t figured it out as quickly himself. 

“And don’t lie to me. You’re not as good of a liar as Malik, so I’ll know if you’re not being honest,” Rishid added. 

“You know damn well that neither I nor the gods could drag Malik into anything he doesn’t want to do. _He’s_ the one that gave _me_ five minutes to join him when we first met.” 

“That’s true,” Malik said, neither condemning nor bragging about his past actions. Although, in truth, he was quite proud of how he wrangled the Spirit of the Ring into his schemes without much effort. 

“That said,” Bakura continued, “I don’t have any crimes specifically planned out at the moment. I stole the jacket, but honestly… I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“That’s not new. What’s surprising is that you’re admitting it for once.” Malik laughed. 

“The amulet will give you the illusion of being fully human, but won’t actually change you, so watch the claws.”

“He has a tail.” Malik snickered. 

Rishid raised an eyebrow at Bakura. Bakura sighed, set down his cards, and stood. He slipped the jacket off and dropped it to the floor, showing Rishid his chest first and turning around to show off his spines and tail second. 

Rishid whistled. “Have you at least learned your lesson at last?” 

“What lesson?” Malik snorted. “Make deals with demons, become powerful, and look cool? Sounds like Bakura made out like the thief he is.” 

But Bakura didn’t laugh. He sighed and sat down in his seat, leaning forward with his hands clasped together and staring at the cards on the table. 

“Kinda. I still hate Atem’s entire fuck-bucket royal family, so don’t expect me to start rambling about redemption or forgiveness. Akhenamkhanen was a shit ruler. Atem was a shit ruler. Everyone not living in the cities were fucking starving, and crime was everywhere. But Demons can’t be trusted to help with vengeance because they’ll fuck you over with your enemy. That’s what I know now that all the chips have been cashed in.” 

“It’ll take me a week to prepare the spell,” Rishid said. “And it’s still your turn.” 

“Right.” Bakura smirked and grabbed his cards. 

Malik made _ful_ for breakfast and they all sat and finished off the pot of coffee, and then Malik made chai for them to drink as they continued playing card games. The conversation flowed far easier than Malik would have guessed, even if Bakura and Rishid trying to out pun each other was a little unbearable for Malik to sit and listen to. Rishid left a few hours later, promising to text Malik when Bakura’s amulet was ready. 

“That worked out.” Bakura shrugged the moment Malik shut the door. 

“Yeah, and in a week you won’t have to hide out here anymore. You can go and do whatever you want.” Malik scratched below the gold band around his arm. “You won’t really need to be here anymore.”

“Guess I am being a parasite, per the usual.” 

“Eh, I like having a pet lizard around the house.”

“You’re a riot.” Bakura rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall. 

“So… where will you go when you’re free?”

“I don’t know.”

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know.” Bakura pursed his lips together. Malik could tell he wanted to end the answer there, but more tumbled from his lips. “When you’ve had one goal for thousands of years and all the sudden it’s gone, it’s hard to think about doing anything else.”

“Well.” Malik sucked in a breath, and held it for a moment. “You could stay here a little longer while you figured it out.” 

“I can’t pay rent. I’m not particularly interested in getting a job.” 

“Just don’t stab people.” Malik waived Bakura’s last statement away. 

“You… really don’t mind me being here?” Bakura glanced at Malik with his garnet eyes. 

His face had a strange neutrality to his expression. On anyone else, it would look disinterested, but it was so far from Bakura’s usual sarcasm, that Malik wondered if Bakura was afraid of what Malik would say. Malik walked to Bakura, step by intentional step. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall on each side of Bakura’s face. 

“I like you.” 

Bakura’s face smoldered, cheeks almost as red as his eyes. Malik grinned and sank closer to Bakura’s burning face in order to snatch a quick kiss from his bottom lip. 

“You’re cuddly-”

Another snap of lips, pulling Bakura’s bottom lip before backing away. 

“You’re better company than I ever would have guessed-”

Another kiss, this one garnished by a soft gasp from Bakura. 

“I like playing games with you-”

Bakura’s mouth finally caught onto the pattern, sucking on Malik’s top lip before he pulled away.

“I like watching movies with you-”

A dab of their tongues, and Malik’s nerves were thrumming with excitement. 

“You get along with my brother-” 

Another touch of their tongues, the kiss lasting a few seconds longer than the rest. 

“You bring me candles when the lights go out-”

Their lips touched again, and Malik couldn’t pull away. They kneaded their mouths together, sliding their tongues together, breathing through their noses so they didn’t have to break apart until Malik decided to pull away. 

“And the tail is kinda hot,” he confessed, twining his fingers into Bakura’s hair and speaking one last time against his lips. “I like you, Bakura, and if you stay longer than a week, I might even grow fond of you.” 

Bakura wrapped his arms around Malik’s shoulders and leapt into Malik’s arms. Malik caught and held him by the seat of his shenti. Bakura coiled around Malik, legs and tail, grinning and letting his tongue hang low. Malik grinned in return, happy to be near Bakura, holding him, causing the smile on Bakura’s face that made his ember-like eyes glow like magma. Malik began walking back to the bedroom. 

“Where are we going?” Bakura glanced over his shoulder to see the answer for himself.

“The bedroom,” Malik whispered as he squeezed Bakura’s ass through the fabric of his shenti. 

Bakura didn’t say anything, but his tail swung side to side, and that was all the answer Malik needed to continue forward. He lay Bakura down onto the mattress, kissing along the Ring-Shaped mark on Bakura’s chest. 

“In a way, it’s like you’re marked with Zorc’s memories in the same way I’m marked with the Pharaoh’s.”

“You’re right. I never considered that.” Bakura’s face grew somber as he thought of it. 

“We’ve always been a lot a like, now more than ever.” Malik’s kisses rose up Bakura’s sternum and to his throat. “If you show me yours…” Malik intentionally let the sentence drift through the room unfinished. 

“Then you’ll show me your cock in return?” Bakura finished the sentence, raising an eyebrow as he asked it like a question. 

“No, that doesn’t seem like an equivalent trade, but this will be-”

Malik slipped the shirt off of his torso and turned around so Bakura could see his scars. He heard the bed squeak as Bakura rose, and felt Bakura’s lips against the sometimes sensitive and sometimes damaged nerves. Malik’s eyes lidded, and he relaxed against Bakura’s lips. He heard a soft _thrump_ and noticed a pile of bright scarlet laying on the floor. 

“Alright, you can turn around now,” Bakura spoke against Malik’s skin. 

Malik gasped; his mouth dropped open. Bakura’s cock was long and thick, black and armored, hard, but it swayed like a charmed mamba in a wicker basket. Malik reached out. He paused and then looked up at Bakura for permission. Bakura tasted the air, grinning and nodding, so Malik allowed his fingers to glide up Bakura’s shaft and then circle around his cockhead in a single, experimental sweep of his hand. 

“ _Oh gods_ ,” Bakura groaned in a deep, husky voice. “I should probably warn you, this thing has a hair trigger.” 

“Sensitive are you?” Malik grabbed Bakura’s cock, bending down and keeping his eyes locked on Bakura as he stretched out his tongue a drew a little heart against Bakura’s cockhead. Bakura tossed his head back, voice choking in his throat. Malik smiled. “It’s okay. I didn’t plan on stopping.” 

“Oh-gods-Malik, oh-gods-Malik, oh-gods-Malik,” Bakura chanted.

Malik swirled his tongue over Bakura’s tip. He dropped down to Bakura’s shaft. He thought that the individual bands of armor might be rough against his tongue, but they were fitted in such a way that they only registered as varying ridges, not sharp or uncomfortable, so Malik licked them generously. 

“Malik,” Bakura groaned, falling back onto the mattress and giving Malik full access to his body. 

His tail was half-pinned beneath him, but the tip flicked up and down, slapping against Malik’s calf as he dropped down to Bakura’s smooth, black balls. Bakura reached out with blind, haphazard grabs of his hands, but his claws finally found Malik’s hair and he raked through the soft gold. Malik moaned, lips sealed around Bakura’s balls. Bakura tugged, but it was a gentle pull that had Malik humming again. He licked up Bakura’s shaft once more, the ridges going past his tongue the way a train rolled over a track, _ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump_. 

When Malik reached Bakura’s cock-head, he kissed it. He held Bakura’s base with both hands, but his cock was a living, writhing thing, and the more Malik licked, the more it wanted to squirm. Malik wrapped his lips around it and lowered down, demanding the thing behave in his mouth by holding tightly with his lips and hands. He gave little, twisting strokes with his hands as his mouth sucked up and down. 

“You smell so good.” Bakura moaned as if he couldn’t take it anymore. “Damn, it’s overwhelming. Gods- your mouth!” 

Bakura arched. His feet gripped the bed with his draconic feet to give him more leverage. He pushed to the back of Malik’s throat. With a soft, breathless cry, Bakura came. Malik swallowed, shocked at how warm the come was as it filled his mouth. Once he’d swallowed everything Bakura poured out, Malik straightened, panting almost as hard as Bakura, and feeling just as flushed. But to look down and see Bakura’s face made the effort worth it. His white hair scattered across the bed. His eyes smoldered with their fiery red light and his wicked tongue curled out to the side as Bakura looked up at Malik with a goofy, happy, satisfied grin. 

“You’re cute.” Malik poked the center of Bakura’s chest ring. 

Bakura sprung up with far more speed and strength than Malik would have ever given him credit for. As soon as Malik registered they were moving, Bakura already had him against the mattress, working delicately with his claws in order to strip Malik’s pants off without scratching him. He grabbed Malik’s legs with his clawed hands and spread Malik wide open. 

“Want me to return the favor?” Bakura asked with a grin and a lick of his lips. 

Malik shook his head so hard his neck felt sore. Even laying down on the bed, Malik could see Bakura’s tail rise and move behind him. His cock was still long and squirming.

“Does it stay hard, or…?” Malik wasn’t sure how to finish the question. 

Bakura paused, looking down and holding onto his own cock. “Yes. I haven’t really had enough time to figure out what the deal is with it.” 

“Hmph, we have nothing but time today.” Malik smiled. 

Bakura wagged his eyebrows and tasted the air with his tongue. He dragged his nails down Malik’s thighs. He kept the pressure light, enticing, and then smoothed the flat of his palms back up Malik’s legs. Bakura flicked his tongue along the sensitive skin between Malik’s legs and pelvis, and Malik gasped at the delicate flutter. Bakura then lapped at Malik’s balls, and the loud, guttural call that escaped Malik surprised him. He’d never uttered something so unrestrained in his life, but Bakura’s tongue was _so long_ and it kept winding around Malik’s sac. He kept waiting, waiting, waiting, for the agile, skillful licks to finally reach his throbbing shaft, but instead of going higher, Bakura’s tongue slipped lower.

“Oh fuck, yes, there.” Malik screwed his eyes shut when Bakura’s tongue poked at his asshole. He never knew he wanted something so badly in his entire life until he felt the shock of pleasure stabbing through him. “There, Bakura, there, Bakura, go deeper, please.”

Bakura sighed, and then teased his tongue into Malik’s entrance. He only inserted about a finger’s length deep, at first, getting Malik used to the sensation, but then he pressed deeper, and deeper, until the entire appendage was wiggling inside Malik’s asshole. 

“ _Ah, Ngh, Mmmm, Ah, Yes!”_ Malik cried out. 

Bakura slipped his tongue in and out, fucking Malik with his mouth. Jolt after jolt of intense, hot euphoria shivered up Malik’s belly and spread out to the tips of his fingers and toes. Malik grabbed his cock, too eager to wait a moment longer, and stroked himself. He spit into his hand, something he’d seen in porn and thought he’d never do himself, but at that moment he wanted his skin wet, but was too impatient to search for the lube in the dresser drawer. His stroke sped up, some of the friction smoothed over by his saliva, but it only lasted a sweet, brief moment before it absorbed into his skin and Malik had to spit again.

Bakura noticed and slapped Malik’s hand away. He pulled out of Malik’s asshole, and Malik growled in protest, but Bakura didn’t care. He dropped his mouth down over Malik’s cock, sucking quick and hard.

“Holy fuck, Bakura!” Malik screamed up to the ceiling. 

Bakura pulled away and inserted his tongue back into Malik’s ass. Malik whined and grabbed his cock again. It was slick. Bakura had coated it well before he pulled away, and Malik was able to jerk himself in a desperate rush. Then Bakura’s tail coiled around the base of Malik’s cock and he went out of his mind. 

“Fuck! Yes! Bakura! Yes! Fuck me! Yes! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Malik flooded come onto his own stomach. His body tingled. His ears felt like he jumped a thousand feet in elevation in the span of a few seconds- stuffed and ringing. He gasped and cooed and moaned as Bakura slipped his tongue back into his own mouth. “Damn, Bakura. That was.... Damn. I’ve died, surpassed the Duat, and became a star.” 

“Probably shouldn’t compliment me too much. It will go straight to my ego.” Bakura crawled on top of Malik, his tail caressing Malik’s body. 

“This one time, you deserve it.” Malik traced his finger along the dark trails snaking across Bakura’s skin. “You’re trembling.”

“S-sensitive.” 

Malik pulled Bakura down so that they’re bodies stacked on top of each other. He flipped them on their sides and grabbed Bakura’s cock, teasing it with the pad of his thumb. Bakura muffled a grunt and clung to Malik’s shoulders, hitching into Malik’s hand. 

“Want lube?” Malik asked.

Bakura nodded his head, eyes shut tight as he focused on Malik’s ministrations. 

“Drawer behind you.” 

Bakura blinked his eyes open in a lust-filled daze. He glanced behind him and rolled over to the drawer. After a little rummaging, he pulled out some anal beads and a large plug, raising an eyebrow at Malik. 

“I’m by myself, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like pleasure.” Malik shrugged.

“I’d say I’d like to watch, but I don’t think I could sit back and watch you touch yourself without leaping onto the bed and touching you myself.” Bakura grabbed the lube, soaked his cock with the gel, and returned to Malik. 

“Sounds like it’d be fun to see how long you could last.” Malik squeezed Bakura’s cock again, stroking faster than before.

“Gorgeous as you are?” Bakura grunted, moving in time with Malik’s hand and holding his top shoulder. “Thirty seconds tops.” 

“I’m not going to pretend to be humble, nor tell you not to flatter me. I know I’m gorgeous, and I know you’re ambitious, and thirty seconds is a generous guess.” 

“Mmmm…” Bakura hummed, ignoring Malik and focusing on his cock. 

“You’re not even paying attention, are you?”

“Sure?”

“What if I said you were gorgeous too? That I loved the way the light played with your scales, and the way I’m starting to be able to read your moods by your tail, and thinking about your tongue inside me makes me want to call out your name.”

“I’m coming!” Bakura shouted, bucked, and shook as he splashed onto the sheets below. 

***

Bakura grumbled as he changed the sheets. Malik at least let him take a nap before giving him chores. Once the linen was changed, he stepped into Malik’s shower, hissing in contentment as the hot water poured over his scales. His cock never did go flaccid. It seemed to be like his tail, a certain length and stiffness all day long, but the more excited he got, the more it wagged. At the moment it was hard and pointing up at his belly, but calm, almost as if resting. 

Tense excitement clutched Bakura’s lower stomach. It was similar to the relaxed, but alert high he always got right before springing a trap. He’d exited the Shadows in a rush, ran to Malik’s by instinct rather than design, only now was his escape sinking in. Being out of the Shadows, being alive, it was like some fevered hallucination Bakura expected to wake from at any moment. He distracted himself by stealing Malik’s shampoo and conditioner, enjoying the fragrance as he fought with his long hair. 

For all the work he put into it, washing, conditioning, drying, and combing, it was still a spiky disaster once he was finished. Bakura gave up, wrapped himself in his black shenti, and found Malik cooking for them in the kitchen. His mouth watered at the smell of pork chops. He scarfed down three along with the quinoa, lentils, and vegetables Malik made for himself. 

“So how are you feeling?” Malik asked. “You were pretty sick the other night.”

“Better now. I think I was just suffering a magical version of jet lag.” Bakura wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up at Malik. “Thanks... I don’t know what I would have done had you kicked me out.”

“You old cockroach, you would have been fine.” Malik brushed Bakura’s statement away. 

“Yeah. I know how to survive, but I’d be into Horus-knows-what sort of crime by now. I’m not sure how deep your redemption goes, but I have no problems jumping back into my role of Thief if it means my own well-being is assured. But…” Bakura paused. He didn’t want to admit the next part, but Malik showed Bakura his scars, so Bakura decided to be open for once in his life. “I could get used to this.”

“Being fed?” Malik laughed, but it was a quiet, soothing sound. The joke wasn’t to mock Bakura, but simply to lighten the serious tension in the air. 

“Watching movies, and playing games, and… cuddling. Fuck, even that. I’ve never lived like this before, and it’s only been a few days, but it’s an addictive way of living.” 

“I know how you feel.” Malik drew on the table with his finger, little invisible hieroglyphics that only he could read. “Maybe, once Rishid brings the amulet, we could…” Malik bit his bottom lip. “Go on a date?” 

“I… shit, that sounds ridiculous. Let’s do it.” 

“Okay.” Malik grinned. “You going to hold my hand?” 

“I’ve done worse things in my life.” Bakura felt his own smile matching Malik’s. 

“I’ve been on one date.” Malik stared up at the ceiling, face lit up with wry amusement. “Yugi set it up, some card-game nerd he thought I’d like. The boy was so vapid and dull that I literally reached for the Rod before remembering that I haven’t had it for years.”

“What would you have made him do? Had you had the Rod.”

“Take me home and forget my number. As it was, I had to suffer through that entire, awkward date, and then turn him down. I _thought_ I was being gentle, but I probably came off as curt. He looked like he was going to cry. Next time Yugi tried to set me up I faked the flu.”

“That’s what you get for letting the Captain of the Friendship Squad pick a date for you.”

“I didn’t expect to marry the guy. I just thought it might be fun to go out and get sushi with someone who wasn’t a sibling. And my attempts to meet people on my own-” Malik pulled a face, his expression finishing his sentence for him. 

Bakura grinned and leaned his chin against his hand was he watched Malik. 

“What about Yugi and the others? Why not hang out with them?”

“I do on occasion.” Malik pulled another face. “But they’re exhausting. ‘Hey guys, let’s talk about our dreams. We’ll try our best and support each other. Let’s hold hands and smile for a solid hour because we’re always happy!’ Okay guys, can we sit and be calm for five minutes? I can’t handle this.”

“I remember that from when I was inhabiting Ryou’s body. The worst part is that they’re not even faking- that’s just how they are.” Bakura’s tail flicked behind him as he chuckled at the memories. 

“I was so… stupid, as a teenager.” Malik combed his fingers through his hair as he thought back. “I was _so happy_ after Battle City, and _even happier_ after the Ceremonial Duel. It was over. The entire thing was over. No more Pharaoh, no more Dark Personality, I get to be a good person and be happy like everyone else now, right?” Malik snorted with the heavy, weary humor of someone who’d lived through too much, too quickly. “Apparently you can’t simply card-game-away sociopathic tendencies. I still find myself thinking of people as cattle. The only difference is that I make a conscious effort to treat the cattle nicely- as long as they leave me alone.” 

“Now _that_ ,” Bakura leaned forward, both hands flat on the table top, “is a redemption I _might_ be able to manage. Neutrality.” 

“Here’s to neutrality.” Malik lifted up his tea cup in a toast. Bakura grabbed his own and stretched across the table in order to clink their glasses together. They downed the last of their tea afterward, and Malik gestured to the kitchen sink. “Help me with the dishes.”

“Why are you giving me so many chores today?” Bakura scowled at the sink. 

“Because you’re officially my roommate now, so no more guest treatment.” 

Bakura growled, but found himself standing beside Malik and rinsing plates twenty seconds later. After they cleaned the kitchen, they went into the living room and played Duel Monsters for a few hours before settling on the sofa and watching TV.

The entire week went by like that. Malik cooked their meals, but Bakura was always drafted into the clean-up. They’d spend their days playing games, watching television, staring at social media pages on Malik’s laptop, talking for hours straight about nothing in particular. Bakura loved when Malik told old stories about his days running the Ghouls, and Malik loved when Bakura told older stories about his days as the King of Thieves. They seemed like stories and nothing more as they lay in bed together and talked until 2 a.m. 

Their nights were exquisite. They began with their limbs knotted together, Bakura’s tail coiled around Malik’s entire body. Then one of their fingers would stray, drag down skin, circle pulse points, fumble with clothing, and once that started neither of them wanted to stop. Bakura memorized the taste of Malik’s skin, how his body curved beneath Bakura’s tongue, how his cock pulsed in Bakura’s mouth. He learned how to spiral his tongue around Malik’s while they french kissed, pulling whimpers from Malik’s mouth, and when he sucked Malik’s dick for the first time, Malik had raked his nails down Bakura’s back hard enough to break the skin- and Bakura had loved every second of it. 

Then one morning as they drank coffee and argued about Western vs Eastern horror movie tropes, the doorbell rang. Malik went to answer it and a moment later he walked back into the kitchen with Rishid close behind him. 

“What’s up, Baldy?” Bakura greeted, raising up his cup. “Coffee?”

“Please.” Rishid nodded. 

Bakura pushed himself away from the table and poured a fresh cup and passed it to Rishid with the sugar bowl. 

“Thank you.” 

“So…” Bakura gestured around the kitchen as if it were a wonder to behold. “If you notice, it’s been a week and I haven’t dragged your precious, baby brother back into a life of crime and debauchery. Mind you, it’s because we’re still scheming. Can’t simply stumble back into a heist. Need to plan.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” Rishid said it in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. “So what have you actually been doing, Malik?” 

“Slasher movies are bullshit,” Malik jumped back into their previous argument. 

“Ghost stories are bullshit,” Bakura countered. 

“What about monster movies?” Rishid chipped in. Had he been anyone else, he’d probably be smirking, but it was Rishid, so he looked as stoic as ever. 

“Damn.” Bakura whistled. “I feel so called out right now. Where’s my amulet, Baldy?” 

Rishid held out a necklace, a golden scarab hanging from a cord of hemp. Bakura reached out for it, but Rishid pulled it out of reach. 

“Malik, now that Bakura will look human, are you going to tell Isis that he’s here?” 

“I… told Isis that I’m going on a date tomorrow night with someone I met when I first came to Japan, and I promised to call her Sunday and tell her how the date goes.” 

“Your words are all true, but there’s an awful amount of deception in them.” 

“She was really happy to hear that I was getting out of the apartment and being social.”

“And now you’re manipulating,” Rishid said. 

“Savage.” Bakura’s tail flicked. 

“Rishid, what do you want from me?” Malik crossed his arms. “If I tell her Bakura escaped from the Shadow Realm years later and is shacking up here, she’ll march over and argue with him until she has a stroke from high blood pressure.” 

“So instead you’re going to avoid her for six months only to have the inevitable catch up to you, which will lead to even more arguing?” 

“I liked it better when you just agreed with me all the time.” Malik snorted. 

“No, you didn’t.” Rishid shook his head. 

“I for one-” Bakura rested a hand over his chest, “am enjoying the new, sassier Rashid immensely.”

“Be quiet.” Malik and Rishid spoke at the same time. 

Bakura chuckled at them, but Malik sighed and dropped down into his chair. He raked his fingers through his hair and hid his face in his hands before looking up at Rishid with a worried lavender gaze. 

“Will you make sure you’re here when she visits next? That way you can meditate so it doesn’t devolve to a screaming match.”

“Yes.” Rishid gave a single nod of consent. 

“Then come over for dinner Sunday. When I call her that morning I’ll tell her the date went well and I want everyone to meet.”

Bakura snorted, and crossed his arms over his chest, but didn’t protest. He knew this was simply part of the package which was Malik; he couldn’t separate himself from his siblings anymore than Bakura could chop off his tail. 

Rishid glanced at Bakura. “Her favorite dish is Om Ali. Malik has a recipe.”

Bakura groaned, scratching his scalp with his talons. “I think it’s going to take more than dessert to smooth things over between us, especially if she remembers anything from, uh, past history, but I get what you’re saying and I’ll make the damn peace offering if it makes this easier for Malik.” 

“Here.” Rishid stood up and handed Bakura the amulet. “Put this on.” 

Bakura slipped the necklace over his head. The weight wasn’t as heavy as the Ring, but it was nice to have something hanging from his neck again. 

“Imagine clothes.”

Bakura thought of the last outfit he’d worn, Ryou’s favorite blue and white striped shirt and a pair of jeans. He heard Malik gasp, so he went into the living room to look at the closest mirror. 

“Nice illusion. You do good work, Baldy.”

“Any outfit you can think of will materialize, but as I said, it’s only an illusion, so I recommend you bind your tail in public. To break the spell, think of your actual attire.” 

The outfit disappeared and Bakura stood in his black shenti with black marks spread across his body and a black Ring behind the scarab pendant. 

“Thank you, Rishid. We appreciate this.” Malik bowed. 

“The apartment’s bigger than the Ring.” Bakura shrugged. “But I suppose I’d get sick of it eventually.” 

“You’re welcome, Bakura.” 

Again, his tone was calm and pleasant, but Bakura fucking knew a sardonic response when he heard one. 

“You were arguing about movies. Is that what you’re going to do tomorrow? Go see a show?” 

“You can tell when I’m being manipulative, but I can tell when you’re being nosy.” Malik smirked, but shrugged and answered his question. “We’re going to the lantern festival at the pier.” 

“If I put a lantern in the water, do you think it’ll send my soul safely to the other side?” Bakura grinned. 

“One can only hope.” Malik snorted. “Then I don’t have to explain to Isis what you’re doing in my apartment.” 

“Tell her I’m doing all the dusting and vacuuming. I’m practically your slave.” 

“Yes. Doing a few chores makes you one of my many, many mind slaves.” Malik rolled his eyes into the back of his head. “How would you even survive on your own?” 

“In a pile of very comfortable trash, probably.” The back and forth was too fun. Bakura had to curb his tail to keep it from smacking into Rishid as it began swinging on its own. 

“Take a picture for your sister,” Rishid said. “I hope you both have fun.” 

“We can’t have all _that_ much fun.” Bakura sputtered out a breath. “I mean, we’re not even going to kill Yugi or destroy the Pharaoh, but maybe there'll be booze there.” 

“Indeed.” Rishid’s perfect stoicism cracked as the corner of his mouth twitched, not a smile but dangerously close. “Well, I’ll take my leave for now and see you Sunday.” 

***

Malik took great care with his appearance. He smoothed his hair down with leave-in conditioner, applied an extra thick layer of kohl on his eyes, and made sure the ume printed yukata looked perfect as it dripped down his body. Once he felt like his image matched his expectations, he went searching for Bakura in the living room. 

“Are you ready?” Malik asked. 

“Yup.” Bakura sat on the sofa, frowning at how his claws clacked against the laptop keyboard. 

“You look ready.” Malik snorted. 

Bakura finished typing, stood, and blew Malik a facetious kiss. A dark blue striped yukata appeared on his body and he ran his talons through his hair twice. 

“Better?”

“It’ll do.” Malik sighed, a little bitter that Bakura could get ready in literally five seconds and look fantastic- even in human form. 

“If you were a god, I’d probably become a priest,” Bakura said in a low, rushed voice. 

Malik’s face warmed. “Remember, _yōkai_ , you said you'd hold my hand.” 

“You know public affection is scandalous in Japan, right?” 

“And illegal if we were in Egypt. When have ever followed the law?” Malik stretched out his hand. 

“You have a point there.” Bakura licked his lips. His tongue was round-tipped and pink. Cute, but Malik knew that the gesture was Bakura tasting the air as he often did with his serpent’s tongue.

Bakura laced his fingers with Malik’s hand. His skin was warm and smooth, but Malik could still feel the way the talons pricked Malik’s skin, and he smiled. They decided to walk, strolling down the street with clasped hands and commenting on anything that filtered through their thoughts. The pier was a forest of festival goers. They pressed together, but still couldn’t walk without occasionally brushing against a random passerby. 

“Who’s dumb idea was this?” Bakura muttered against Malik’s ear.

“Yours, remember? You wanted to see the fireworks.”

“To be fair, I thought you’d like the lights.”

“I do.” Malik nudged Bakura with his hip. 

Everywhere from the street to the pier itself was strung with paper lanterns. It gave the street and people a tender, brilliant glow despite the night sky. They walked around, watched several attractions, ate food takoyaki from a stand, and went to the shrine to purchase their own lanterns. They wandered away from the crowds, but stayed near the water. Bakura laid down a blanket. Malik blinked, wondering where it came from before recognizing it as Bakura’s shenti. 

“Bakura, are you-”

“I don’t care.” Bakura winked. 

Malik saw Bakura’s striped yukata, but knew that it was magic-created deception. He blinked, imagining the way Bakura’s scales would shimmer in the lantern light. 

“You’re staring.” Bakura smiled. 

“I am.” Malik returned the grin and brushed his hand against Bakura’s bare hip. 

“Malik,” Bakura whispered between clenched teeth. “Sensitive. Remember?”

“Yes. I remember.” Malik gave a few more caresses to Bakura’s body. He caught the floating lights out of the corner of his eye and turned to watch them float out to the water. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Reflected in your eyes they are.” Bakura brushed the hair away from Malik’s face so he could see his face better. 

“That was… smooth.” 

“I can be.” Bakura grinned. 

“Should we light ours?”

Bakura nodded and Malik lit both of their paper lanterns. They walked to the edge of the water, shimmering with cool, white starlight and the warm, orange reflection of dozens of lanterns. They set their own down, watching them bob a moment before Bakura- using a tail Malik couldn’t see- pushed them out to the current without either of them having to wet their feet. They stood, side by side, and watched their lanterns float out to sea. Malik felt Bakura’s hand curl into his own. 

“Who’s yours for?” Bakura asked in a small voice. 

“My mother,” Malik whispered, denying the sting hiding just behind his eyes. 

“Mine too. For all of them, but especially her.” 

Malik squeezed their hands together. A breeze tugged at their hair, but it was warm and pleasant. They didn’t speak, the silence clung to them as a blanket would, comfortable and keeping them close together. A pop and burst of gold distracted them- drawing their eyes to the sky. The first firework glittered and then faded, followed by a bright blue burst. They sat back down, arms slipping around each other. Malik felt Bakura’s tail coiled around him. He leaned his head onto Bakura’s shoulder as they watched fire explode in the sky and rain down over a sea of glowing lanterns. 

***

They returned to Malik’s apartment late into the night, but Malik’s apartment always stayed brightly lit. Malik shut the door and pulled Bakura’s hand towards the bedroom- also brightly lit.

“Cute as you look in a yukata- take off that illusion. Right now.”

“Yes sir.” Bakura dropped the human guise and his shenti both and once. 

Malik shoved him onto the bed and worked on ridding himself of his own clothes. Bakura admired the way the pretty cloth slipped away and revealed dark, sandalwood colored skin. Malik primped his hair and climbed on top of Bakura with a predatory stare that made Bakura’s stomach loop. 

“Spread your legs,” Malik ordered. 

Bakura stretched wide and Malik settled between his parted legs. His body weight sandwiched Bakura’s cock between their bellies and made Bakura’s eyes fall half-mast. Malik leaned down and stole the breath from Bakura as he drew kiss after sensuous kiss from Bakura’s mouth. Their fingers laced together. Bakura wrapped his legs around Malik’s waist. His tail spiraled around Malik’s thigh. Their lips dragged together long after the friction made their mouths burn. They rolled their groins against each other, intentional, deliberate, enough to make them yearn for each other.

“Malik,” Bakura whispered. 

“Hmmm?” Malik half asked, half moaned into another kiss. 

“Please…” the rest of the plea refused to leave his throat. 

“Mmmm, you sound lovely when you ask sweetly like that.” 

“Please-” Bakura tried again, hitching up with more force. 

“Getting impatient?” Malik slipped his hand between their bodies, grazing his fingers up and down Bakura’s cock. 

Bakura groaned and clung to Malik’s shoulders. He curled up, pressing his forehead against Malik’s chest and curling his hind claws into the sheets. He grabbed Malik’s cock. Malik purred, expecting to be stroked, but Bakura shifted and guided the tip of Malik’s cock against the entrance to his asshole. 

“Oh.” Malik sucked in a quick breath when he realized what Bakura was asking for. A low moan accompanied his exhale as he caught Bakura’s stare. “Oooooh, Bakura, you want to?”

Bakura nodded, unable to vocalize the raw instinct throbbing throughout his body. Instead, he unraveled his tail so that Malik could grab the lube. Bakura flipped over on forearms and knees, preferring to have his tail free to move as it wanted too without his weight pressing down on it. 

“ _Oh gods_.” 

Malik sounded out of breath so Bakura glanced over his shoulder. Malik’s eyes were wide and dilated. His mouth hung open in wonder, and he looked flushed. 

“You okay?” Bakura asked.

“You look so good like that.” Malik closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath to center himself.

Bakura grinned. The thought of mesmerizing Malik was intoxicating to Bakura. His tail wagged right to left, and his cock slithered against his belly. Bakura nudged back, presenting himself. He reached back, spreading his ass wide open for Malik to get a full view. 

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting. I want you inside me.” 

Malik scrabbled onto the bed. His hands shook with excitement, so the lube missed its mark and dribbled down Bakura’s thigh instead. Malik swore and Bakura laughed, and a moment later Malik managed to push two fingers into Bakura’s asshole and Bakura was clutching the sheets. 

“Oh yes.” 

“Is this what you wanted?” 

“That and more.” Bakura licked the air, tail still swinging like a metronome. 

Malik doused himself. He kissed around the base of Bakura’s tail, and Bakura cried out. He hadn’t realized how sensitive the underside was until he had Malik’s reverent lips teasing him with kisses. Malik continued kissing up Bakura’s tail as he shifted his hips forward. Bakura grunted, pulling the sheets off the bed as the pressure built up inside him. Then Bakura’s flesh accepted Malik’s waiting cock and both of them cursed as the first shock of exquisite sensation consumed them. 

“Warm,” Malik sighed.

“Burning,” Bakura cried. 

Malik added more lube and Bakura exhaled at the soothing, cool feel of it against his skin. Part of Bakura felt like his body was trying its best to push Malik out, while the other part of him wanted to squeeze, and hold Malik tighter, and thrust back to create more friction although he was already burning inside. Then Malik slipped halfway out and eased back in. Bakura tossed his head back, his voice intense and guttural as he shouted curses at the headboard. 

“I’ll keep it nice and slow,” Malik hummed as he eased back and forth. “Until you ask for more, and then I’ll give you as much as you want.” 

As Malik moved back and forth, Bakura pressed his face into his pillow and screamed more profanities. His tail draped over Malik’s shoulder and his toes curled again. Bakura gave in to the urge to clench his muscles, and Malik called out as he felt Bakura’s flesh tighten around him. Bakura rocked backward as Malik pushed forward. They were like the ebb and flow of the ocean, waves crashing against sand, the moon pulling the tide in. Bakura eased down onto his belly, giving Malik time to lower down with him. Bakura rutted his sensitive cock against the satin sheets. His breath quickened, and the more he moved, the faster he wanted to move. 

“Malik-”

“Yes, Bakura?” Malik rubbed his thumb against Bakura’s hip. 

“Faster.” 

“Of course,” Malik purred, hiking his hips forward. Malik tilted back his head so he could arch into his thrusts. “Gods, I want you.” 

“I’m… close.” Bakura gasped. 

His tail slipped down and wrapped around Malik’s waist again. Malik gave it a pat before focusing on plunging faster into Bakura’s ass. He kissed near the spines arising from Bakura’s back, but was careful not to lean onto them. 

“Malik- I’m- so close.” 

“Good, Bakura. I want you to come.You’re so tight. It’s hard to hold back.” 

“Malik- you feel- so thick-”

“Mmmm, Bakura-”

“So hot-”

“Oh, Bakura!”

“So good inside me!”

“Bakura! Bakura! Bakura! Fuck!” Malik sped up his pace. 

“Shit, Malik. Shit. Fuck yes! Fuck! _Ahhhhhhh_!” Bakura pressed upward, pumping come against the sheets and coming until little webs of light branched out behind his closed eyelids. 

Malik rolled Bakura over onto his back, slipping between his legs again and pumping into Bakura’s body.

“Want to see your face,” Malik whispered as he moved. “Does it still feel good?”

“Yes,” Bakura answered. He usually came twice when they fooled around, but his body was slack and calm and his cock rested against his belly without squirming. In his dreamy state, a thought wandered into Bakura’s mind that gave him an idea. “Want me to fuck you with my tail as you fuck me?” 

“Y-yes.” Malik looked bashful, but refused to turn his gaze away from Bakura. 

Bakura reached for the lube and greased up his tail. It had the same platelets as his cock, so Bakura made sure each seam was slick. He smoothed his tail up Malik’s thigh, and teased Malik’s crack before slipping the tip in. Malik gasped, eyes hazy and lips parted. After a moment, Bakura pressed in a little deeper, slipping in and out. He’d fingered Malik during blowjobs, and used his tongue on several occasions, so he already knew what angle to curve his tail in order to make Malik scream like he was losing his damn mind in the best sort of way. Bakura licked the air. Malik’s scent was so strong he could taste it on his tongue and it was a delicacy. He matched Malik’s pace, slipping in and out. Their bodies smacked together, the headboard rocked against the wall, and the boxspring squeaked beneath them, and all the background noise only encouraged them to move faster, harder, and more fully into each other. 

“B-Ba-kura- I-I-I’m-” Malik’s teeth clenched and he trembled before dropping onto Bakura’s chest. 

The second Malik dropped, Bakura caught him in his arms. Arms, legs, and tail, Bakura coiled wholly around Malik’s body, soaking in Malik’s warmth and enjoying his scent. They fell asleep tangled together like a knot. 

In the morning, Bakura was not ready to let go. Malik’s scent surrounded Bakura and he took heavy breaths as he continued to cradle Malik and nudge against Malik’s chest in a sleepy, affectionate gesture. Malik giggled when Bakura’s tongue flicked out and tickled Malik’s chest. 

“We didn’t shower last night.”

“Who cares? There’s hot water on tap. I fucking love the future.”

“You’re going to have to change the sheets again.”

“Fifteen more minutes. I’m not used to utter bliss. I want to cling to this moment a little longer.”

“Utter bliss, huh?” Malik kissed his forehead and combed through his bat wings. “Is that what holding me feels like?” 

“Yes.” Bakura flicked out his tongue again. Intentionally, right on Malik’s nipple. 

Malik giggled and toyed with the spines on Bakura’s back as Bakura decorated his chest with light kisses. The phone ruined their fun, its ring making them both jerk. 

“Shit!” Malik squirmed out of Bakura’s needy grasp and reached for his cell. “Isis probably thinks I forgot to call her.”

Bakura groaned, getting it out of his system before Malik answered the phone. He wondered what the fuck Om Ali was and if it was hard to make. Even if it turned out, he somehow doubted that such a simple bribe was going to win Malik’s sister over. 

“Goodmorning Isis. I didn’t forget, I just got in late last night and was just now waking up… No, no. You’re fine. I need to make breakfast anyway.” 

Bakura watched Malik sit up and lean against the headboard. He fidgeted with the hem of the blanket as he listened to Isis’ voice over the phone. 

“Yes, thank you. I had a great time. Have you ever been to a lantern festival? You should go. Lights _everywhere_. They were hanging all down the streets, and we released them into the water, and then the fireworks in the sky- I didn’t even care that it was dark out! It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. And then we tried takoyaki, and- yes I know there’s octopus in it… I don’t care, it was delicious… Ha ha, don’t worry, I won’t make you try it. Actually…” 

Malik paused, not because he was listening but because he was gathering his courage. Bakura held Malik’s free hand. Malik’s face twitched in Bakura’s direction, and Bakura only nodded, silently encouraging Malik to continue. 

“Actually, I was wondering if you and Rishid wanted to come by for dinner tonight? I… had fun last night, and I’m going to be seeing this guy a lot, so… you will? Oh, good.” Malik sighed, glad to get it over with. “Okay. Six? Okay. Then I’ll see you-”

Before Malik could end the call, Bakura snatched the phone. Malik lunged for it, but Bakura kept Malik away with his tail. 

“Bakura! What the hell are you doing? Give me my phone back right now!”

Bakura laughed, still holding Malik back as he pressed the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, Isis, how’s it going?” Bakura asked. Only shocked silence answered him. Malik smacked Bakura and struggled for the phone, but Bakura had five limbs to fight with, and Malik couldn’t reach, so Bakura continued. “Just so there’s no awkward confusion, when you see me, I’m definitely not Ryou. Anyway, we’ll see you at six- oh, and be a dear and bring a bottle or two of wine, would you? This is going to be a long dinner. Thanks, Sis.” 

Bakura handed the phone back to the screaming, red-faced Malik. Bakura cackled up to the ceiling. It was worth the argument that followed. 


End file.
